


Mother Mine

by jawsandbones



Series: Ficlits [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Leandra always left a bad taste
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawsandbones/pseuds/jawsandbones
Summary: Hawke hasn't always been Hawke. To some, she's always been Marian. To others, a daughter.---She isn’t sure of the exact moment, that heartbeat on which it began. She twists bitter anger, understands it as love. Standing with bare feet by the kitchen, a bowl in her arms and a smudge of dirt on her forehead. The tears roll down her cheeks, land with a metal din inside the bowl. She barely hears the words although they are shouted, screamed, Leandra’s face splotchy red with rage. The dish rag clenched in her hand, and she shakes it in Hawke’s face as she burns with boiling ire.





	Mother Mine

She isn’t sure of the exact moment, that heartbeat on which it began. She twists bitter anger, understands it as love. Standing with bare feet by the kitchen, a bowl in her arms and a smudge of dirt on her forehead. The tears roll down her cheeks, land with a metal din inside the bowl. She barely hears the words although they are shouted, screamed, Leandra’s face splotchy red with rage. The dish rag clenched in her hand, and she shakes it in Hawke’s face as she burns with boiling ire.

There are the days of indifference. The choleric disdain as Leandra passes by, without acknowledging Hawke’s outstretched arms. The days of regret, resentment. When Hawke’s presence is a reminder of all that she left behind, for someone she barely knew, for a baby she – “She doesn’t mean it,” Malcolm tells Hawke as they sit together, “she loves you.” So Hawke picks a fight with the neighbor boy. She steals from the baker, splashes mud on the nice dresses of the other ladies. Hawke is dragged home by her ear, Leandra scolds and Hawke feels loved.

Hawke stands on tip toes, reaches over into the crib and two sets of little hands reach back. “Get away from there, you’ll hurt the babies,” Leandra says as she shoos her away. Hawke sits on the steps while Leandra cradles them in her arms. Leandra and Malcolm tell two versions of the same story. At night, tucking her into bed, Malcolm whispers of wild romance, a daring adventure. When her parents argue, Leandra spins a tale of youth, recklessness, and a fantasy that didn’t come true.

She drowns Bethany and Carver in love, protection, and Hawke steals them away for the wilder things. She brings them home in the evening, full of mud and laughter. The flush of anger starts in Leandra’s brows, spreads outwards. She tells them not to come inside. As Hawke washes them off, she tells the twins, “She doesn’t mean it. She loves you.” Leandra’s attention slips from them as they grow older, and so Hawke spends more and more time with her siblings.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you knew how to heal,” Leandra tells her as Malcolm’s ashes fade away in the wind, but Hawke only knows what Malcolm taught her. “This is your fault.” The tears roll hot down Leandra’s cheeks as she cradles Bethany in her arms, casts a glare where Hawke kneels beside her. Hawke understands responsibility. It’s always been hers. She finds a way to give her mother back her nobility, but Leandra only collapses to the floor and screams for Carver. Hawke understands failure. It’s always been hers.

Descending into the dark, through bloodstained corridors and dimly lit rooms. Hawke finds the broken painting of her mother in the last room, stitched together from canvas not her own. She takes her mother into her arms, and readies herself for the anger. “I love you. You’ve always made me so proud,” Leandra tells her and Hawke doesn’t know what to do with these words, how to feel them. So, she feels nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can always find me [@jawsandbones](http://jawsandbones.tumblr.com/post/146678434099)


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